My Father Came Home Late Today
by jakefanatic
Summary: A short story from Sam's POV dealing with her mother's death.


My father came home late today. It was not an uncommon event. Dad was a workaholic and often worked late, I accepted that. Certain days Mom had to get her own ride home because he was working late, I accepted that too. It was one of our family functions.

Only today, I had no idea that my life would change forever when my father came home late.

"Sam?"

"In here!"

I respond to him as I was placing the fresh batch of cookies on a plate. I know they don't taste the greatest but my father eats them regardless, even if he spoils his dinner. Mom always gives him grief for eating the cookies before his dinner. It's all part of their game they play with each other.

Dad loves to tease Mom. He always does it with a smirk on his face, giving me a wink, purposely putting a cookie in his mouth. Then Mom always gives him the mock anger voice. It's nice to watch them, to see the love they have for each other. My father isn't the most affectionate man in the world but he does have his moments, especially with Mom. It makes me happy that my cookies are a part of some of those moments.

I hear footsteps on the kitchen floor. Only they're not Mom's high heels. Looking up, I see my father. I'm a little surprised he's not in his uniform. He's **always** in his uniform when he leaves the house and when he comes home. Then I notice his eyes…

"Why are you crying?"

It hits me as the words are coming out of my mouth. There's only one reason in the world my father would ever shed a tear. My eyes start to burn and my throat feels so tight I can barely breathe or speak. I have to force myself to ask the question.

"Where's Mom?"

My father…he couldn't even speak. He didn't have to. His tears, the sorrow in his face all told me…Mom's gone.

I rush past him avoiding his reach. I ignore his call and run upstairs.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Mark asks when I push past him.

I ignore him too, heading into my room and closing the door. Alone I weep for my mother, hugging my pillow.

A few moments later, I hear my brother. His voice raised in anger. Heavy footfalls running up the stairs.

"**Let go of me! It's your fault she's dead! If you weren't late she wouldn't have died in that cab**!"

"Mark, please…"

"**Go to hell! I hate you**!"

A door slams so hard my windows rattle. I cry even hard her burying my face in my pillow.

A few moments later, I hear a soft knock on my door.

"Sam?"

It's my father. I can't talk to him. Not now. Maybe never. I don't know. In a way, Mark was right, if Dad was on time Mom wouldn't have needed to take a cab. If he hadn't been working late Mom would still be alive.

I ignore him and he finally leaves me alone with my tears.

Even as the next couple of days pass numbly by, I avoid conversation with him and my brother. I'm too afraid that if I speak my tears will start right up again. They're there, always ready to fall at a moments notice. More so today because today is my mother's funeral.

Sitting there on my bed, I sense a presence in my doorway. In my grief I had forgotten to close it. I don't have to look to see it's my father.

"Sam, are you almost ready?"

I don't answer him. So, he comes to sit on the bed beside me. I can't even look at him…my own father. Mom's gone. That's all I can think of when I see him. I turn away from him.

"Can we talk? Sam, you haven't said two words since…since the accident. Your brother's made it pretty clear how he feels."

"He blames you."

"I blame myself."

The tears are burning my eyes, but I am my father's daughter, I don't let them fall. And I don't hesitate to speaking what I'm thinking.

"Your work has always been more important than us."

"You know that's not true," he counters.

Yes…I know it's not true. I know my father works too hard at times. I know he loves us. But I just wish he would say it more. I need to hear how much he loves my brother and me.

"I don't want you to forgive me. I don't know if I can accept that yet. I just want you to understand…"

I'm not an idiot. I understand. Mom's gone. I understand completely as my anger briefly over takes my grief. I turn to finally face him.

"You were supposed to pick Mom up. You were late. She took a cab. There was an accident. I understand!"

"I couldn't have known what would happen."

"But Mom is **dead**!"

"Nothing I say or do could change that. All I can do is try and make sure the things she loved most don't die with her."

The things **she** loved…what about **you**, Dad?

"Sam…without you and your brother my life is over. Nothing else means more to me. Don't forgive me. Just tell me one day we're going to be ok."

I close my eyes and let my tears fall. He doesn't say anything else but I feel his arms around me. A reminder that he does love me for this was not the first time he's comforted me through my tears. And perhaps…in time it won't be the last.

The year passes slowly. The pain of losing my mother lessens but never goes away. I watch as the rift between my father and my brother grows wider each time they argue. They're so alike, both too damn stubborn. Perhaps now that Mark is away at college things will be better between them.

I look up at the clock from my studies to see it's nearly suppertime. It's late and my father isn't home yet. My stomach flutters with fear. He always calls me when he's going to be late, never wanting me to worry. Only I the phone didn't ring. I was sitting right by it and would have heard it.

Then it hits me. It was on this day in May, exactly one year ago, when I lost my mother. There would only be one place my father would be. The cemetery is only two miles away; I can make it there in no time on my bike.

I arrive to see him standing by Mom's grave. He hasn't seen me yet. I can see his face. The same sadness I saw at the funeral. The same sadness I saw everyday since. He tries to hide it from me but I catch glimpses of it. There are days when he could barely look at my brother or me.

I wonder if it's because we remind him of her or if it's because he feels guilty for her death. Probably both.

I set my bike down and approach him. He's startled to see me and quickly composes himself. Always the strong soldier.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you, Sam. I…I didn't want to upset you by telling you where I was going."

"That's ok, Dad. I forgive you," I smiled.

His sorrow only deepens and I know exactly why. So, I quickly wrap my arms around him before he responds.

"It wasn't your fault, Dad. It was an accident."

I feel his arms squeezing the breath out of me so I squeeze him back just as hard.

"I don't blame you…I never did."

His arms tighten around me even more and I tell him we're going to be ok.


End file.
